


Teach Your Children Well

by chidorinnn



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:32:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7252207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chidorinnn/pseuds/chidorinnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where the Deeprealms do not exist, the armies of Hoshido and Nohr adopt children who have been displaced by the war and their own unfortunate circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach Your Children Well

**Author's Note:**

> Because the babyrealm sucks as a narrative concept, and it makes much more sense for these poor kids to be adopted without any unfortunate abandonment issues by their parents' weird negligence.

            Dwyer had always warned Lady Melissa that security was far too lax in her estate. Every time, she would rebuff him – sometimes by brushing him off with a few dismissive words, other times by outright laughing at his concerns.

            Except now, with men with scary faces storming into the estate with weapons drawn, with Lady Melissa screeching incoherent and contradictory orders at the servants, Dwyer can’t find the words to tell her that _he warned her this would happen_.

            “Dwyer!” his master snaps at him. Her intricate bun is starting to come undone, and waves and curls of pale blonde hair fall out of place. There’s not a bit of kindness in her soft, pretty blue eyes. He wonders, briefly, what those countless suitors who come to her dinner parties, desperate for even the smallest bit of attention from her, would say if they could see her now. “What are you doing just standing there like a useless lout? Make sure all the valuables are secured!”

            Never mind that not all the servants are accounted for yet. Never mind that Erina, one of the older maids, is ready to tear her hair out because she chose today, of all days, to bring her children with her to work and they are nowhere to be found. Never mind that Logan, a butler-in-training younger than Dwyer is in tears because he might not live through the day to apologize to his mother for arguing with her in the morning.

            “Of course, as long as the master’s wealth is secured, all will be well…” Dwyer mutters dryly to himself.

            “Dwyer!” Lady Melissa shrieks again.

            With a long, weary sigh, Dwyer takes his staff and drags his feet to his master’s side.

* * *

 

            Jakob shudders in disgust. “What a sleepy place…” he grumbles. Unconsciously, he falls in step with Corrin, reaching for his dagger so that he’ll be prepared at the first sign of trouble. It’s too quiet in this town, and yet there is an estate nearby known for the lavish dinner parties thrown by its owner – something is bound to go wrong, if nothing has happened already.

            Corrin laughs, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth delicately. “You worry entirely too much, Jakob.”

            Felicia joins in her laughter, though her giggles are much less pleasing to the ear. “You _always_ worry, Jakob!”

            He expects Flora to laugh too, but instead, the maid smiles and shakes her head. “Now, now,” she says calmly. “At least one of us has to remain on our guard, in case something happens.”

            Jakob nods stiffly and clears his throat. “Well said, Flora.”

            Corrin sighs happily and clasps her hands together before her. Much of the tension is gone from her shoulders, and it’s almost like they’re back in the Northern Fortress – the only thing missing is Gunter, and Jakob stops that train of thought dead before it can turn into anything even remotely resembling grief. “I’m so glad we can all be together like this again.”

            “Me too!” Felicia chimes in.

            The comment is clearly directed at Flora, but whether or not she notices, Flora doesn’t react. For a moment, Jakob thinks back to the frigid cold of the Ice Tribe village, of Flora standing with her dagger pointed directly at Corrin, something that would never be forgiven if her master was anyone else.

            It all feels like a whole lifetime away.

            Suddenly, a villager runs up to them in a panic, out of breath and almost tripping over her skirt. “Leave while you still can!” she gasps. “Lady Melissa, she… if Lady Melissa can be attacked, then no one in the village is safe!”

            “Lady Melissa?” Felicia echoes.

            “We have to help!” Corrin says automatically.

            Flora steps forward and smiles gently. It’s a more genuine smile, and this one reaches her eyes better than anything she’d displayed before that awful confrontation at her home village. “Where can we find this Lady Melissa?”

            The girl points a shaking hand at a large house at the top of a hill, far from the village’s center. It’s a large house, extravagant in a way that only something close to the Nohrian royal palace would be. Jakob can almost picture the owner of that estate now – someone imperious and imposing, who believes their wealth to be far more important than whatever they’re supposed to govern. It puts a sour taste in his mouth, and he almost wants to ask Corrin to just ignore the girl’s pleas and leave before they can get entangled in unnecessary affairs.

            But Corrin’s mind is made up – they go to the estate to help this Lady Melissa, and Jakob doesn’t want to tell her that _he told her so_ when the entire estate is in a disarray.

* * *

 

            “Where are your weapons?” Lady Melissa demands. “How are you supposed to protect me without any weapons?”

            Dwyer sighs yet again – he’s long lost count of how many times he’s sighed within the past hour alone. There’s already an intruder in the room, pointing the longest sword Dwyer’s ever seen at his master. If he waits a few minutes longer, there’s sure to be at least a few more joining the first. “I’m a troubadour, milady,” he says blandly. “I am trained only in the use of healing staves at the moment.”

            “Who said anything about _training_?” Lady Melissa retorts. “Pick up one of those knives in that drawer—“ she jerks her head toward a large armoire in the corner of the room “—and _do something_!”

            Dwyer doesn’t mention that doing so would probably make him a greater threat to his master and fellow servants than to the intruders he’s supposed to be fighting. He tries not to think of Erina’s children, still missing, probably _dead_ if they were unlucky enough to run into trouble. He tries not to think of Logan’s mother in tears, later, when the knowledge of her son’s untimely death reaches her.

            The door bolts open with a magnanimous gust of air, and Dwyer squeezes his eyes shut to mentally prepare himself for the worst.

            But then, a woman’s voice cries out, “We’re here to help!” and all of a sudden, Dwyer’s fears and anxieties vanish into thin air. There’s no telling who they work for – they could be here to help the intruders ransack Lady Melissa’s estate, for all he knows – and yet, it’s hard to believe that they have anything but the best of intentions. The woman that leads them is… shorter than him, admittedly, but even in clothes unsuited for battle – a black dress, with perhaps more ruffles and lace than you’d find in the average girl’s wardrobe – there’s something about her presence that commands authority. Even better, she’s accompanied by two maids and a butler.

            “H-Hired help?” Lady Melissa squeaks. “Oh, thank the gods!”

            The woman smiles pleasantly at his master. “And I suppose you’re Lady Melissa?”

            “Y-Yes! Oh, it’s just awful! My staff has deserted me, and—“

            “That’s a lie…” Dwyer mumbles to himself, and it isn’t until the words are out of his mouth that he registers that she might have heard him.

            “Forgive my insolence, but is that not one of your staff right there?” the butler asks, gesturing toward Dwyer.

            “Oh, this one’s positively useless!” Lady Melissa says with a slight sneer. “He’s not good for much besides making tea and twirling around that staff of his, honestly.”

            One of the maids, a woman with pale blue hair, frowns slightly. “Well, that’s more than enough, then,” she says. “There’s a lot you can do with a healing staff, you know.”

            The woman leading them dips into a small curtsey. “Leave the fighting to us,” she says. “That way, your young butler can focus on healing the injured. Jakob, will you please—“

            The butler bows. “Of course, Lady Corrin.” In the blink of an eye, he draws a knife and flings it at the intruder. The other maid, one with pale pink hair, unleashes a mighty cry as she charges toward her opponent with a knife raised.

            Suddenly, there’s something tugging at Dwyer’s hand. He startles when he notices the blue-haired maid suddenly standing next to him, and he mentally berates himself for not paying enough attention. “How many other servants are there in this estate?” she asks in a voice too gentle for such an awful, frightening situation.

            “Ah… um…” He mentally curses himself again – what kind of butler is he, to get so rattled by the slightest bit of trouble?

            The maid smiles reassuringly at him. “It’s all right,” she says. “My friends will see to it that the people who troubled you are dealt with. But for now, we need to ensure that the rest of the servants are all alive and well.”

            “Th-There was Miss Erina…” Dwyer chokes out, and suddenly it’s very difficult to speak. “Her children are lost… somewhere. They can’t have left the estate, b-but…“

            “Can you show me to Miss Erina?” the maid asks him, and it’s baffling how _calm_ she is. He has to wonder how many times she’s dealt with something like this, how many times she’s had to _fight_ , when the mere thought of holding anything but his staff in battle paralyzes him.

            “I-I can’t…” _I can’t leave my master’s side_ , he wants to say, but it’s very difficult to form words at the moment.

            Somehow, the maid gets the message, and she nods. “I understand. But—“

            The door bursts open again, shoved open by a frantic Erina. “Dwyer! Come quickly! Gerald, he’s—“

            —injured. Possibly dying. Somehow, it’s enough to help Dwyer shake off his anxiety. “I’m on it!”

            The maid’s hand brushes his elbow so lightly, he doesn’t even notice that she’s grasping his sleeve until he looks back at her – and tries to ignore that her master is turning into a _dragon_. “I’ll help too,” she says. “I also know a thing or two about healing.”

* * *

 

            Lady Melissa doesn’t start opening her chests and counting her gold until after the people that helped them defend the estate have left. _She played her part well_ , Dwyer has the sense to not say aloud. She remained perfectly sweet and demure while Lady Corrin – and he can’t shake off the feeling that he’s heard that name somewhere before – and her servants kept them all alive.

            But now, as her face contorts into a displeased scowl, Dwyer has to wonder if it was all worth it.

            Logan tries to maintain an aura of professionalism required of all of Lady Melissa’s butlers and maids, but his shoulders are shaking visibly. Erina hurriedly tries to shush her sobbing and panicking children, casting anxious glances toward Lady Melissa and muttering half-formed apologies under her breath.

            Lady Melissa closes the last chest – one that had been locked into her room. “My brooch is missing,” she declares with finality, as if they hadn’t all been fighting for their lives just moments ago.

            “Perhaps it was simply misplaced—“ Erina starts, as if she’s speaking to one of her children and not to her master.

            “Are you questioning me?” Lady Melissa says icily. “It was _stolen_ , clearly, because apparently I can’t trust my staff to do their job!” She sets her sights on Logan next, and the poor boy flinches. “If you’d fought back like you were supposed to instead of running like a _coward_ —“

            “I’m sorry!” Logan squeaks. “I’m so sorry, milady! I was just—“

            He cries out in pain when her palm connects with his cheek. “Such insolence!”

            “How much was that brooch worth?” Dwyer asks dryly. “If the rest of your wealth was secured… then should there really be a problem?”

            It’s enough to divert her attention from poor Logan, but maybe Dwyer should have thought twice about incurring his master’s wrath. “You…” Lady Melissa snarls. “Don’t think you’re absolved of your negligence! Your orders were to fight—“

            “—which I cannot, as I told you multiple times—“ Dwyer interjects.

            “—and yet this brooch was swiped from right under your nose!”

            Later, Dwyer will blame this episode on his own lack of patience and some insane need to prove that he’s at least half a decent person to Erina and Logan. Challenging your master is grounds for dismissal on the best of days, and practically a death sentence otherwise. Still, he stands as tall as he possibly can, towering over Lady Melissa as much as his natural height will allow. “At the cost of the staff’s lives?”

            She doesn’t slap him like she did to Logan just moments ago. “You’re dismissed, Dwyer,” she says instead, cold and deceptively calm. “Pack your things and go.”

            All things considered, this isn’t the worst way for things to end – but then it occurs to him that unlike Logan and Erina, he has nowhere else to go. Dropping abruptly to one knee, Dwyer bows his head. “Lady Melissa, please reconsider!”

            She doesn’t respond – instead she barks an order to Logan that Dwyer can’t register and doesn’t look back even once. Insanely, he finds himself thinking back to when he first arrived at Lady Melissa’s doorstep, urged there by his parents who had suddenly moved away before his first day in her service was over. That had been years ago, and yet…

            Suddenly, there’s a pressure in his sinuses and a burning in his eyes that, by all means, shouldn’t be there.

* * *

 

            “I’m so glad we saved them all!” Corrin says happily, positively skipping down the stone road. “Thanks for your help, everyone!”

            “Of course!” Felicia says with a giggle. “That lady was really nice!”

            Snorting derisively, Jakob shakes his head. “Offering to pay us for our efforts does not equate to kindness.” If he’s being perfectly honest with himself, he’s been in a bad mood for a long while – probably since they first set foot in Lady Melissa’s estate. It puts a sour taste in his mouth, thinking back to that young butler at her side when they first arrived, too young and too shaken to fight back while his master insulted him in the presence of royalty.

            Flora tilts her head to the side, frowning at him quizzically. “Is something wrong, Jakob?”

            He sighs, rubbing his chin. “I wouldn’t be surprised if at least one of her staff was dismissed after the incident today.” Flora’s eyes widen for a moment, and then she nods slowly, understanding.

            “Why would you say that?” Felicia asks. “They did their job, didn’t they?”

            “Yes, but…” Flora answers. Then, she trails off, her eyes narrowing as she raises her hand and points toward a bakery on the side of the road. Sitting outside with a healing staff resting next to him against the table and a large loaf of bread in front of him is a boy with wild, messy grey hair and dark eyes with shadows collecting under them – the same butler from Lady Melissa’s estate, and it’s a struggle for Jakob to resist the urge to tell them that _he knew this would happen_. “Isn’t that…?”

            “Oh, please don’t tell me you were right, Jakob…” says Corrin, covering her mouth with her hand delicately.

            “Hey!” Felicia calls to him, waving her hand above her head.

            The young butler jerks his head upward, eyes widening for a moment in recognition, before he dips his head into a small nod.

            “What are you doing all the way out here?” Corrin asks, smiling at him. “Out on an errand?” The boy mutters something under his breath, and red blooms across his cheeks.

            “What was that?” Flora asks gently. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

            The boy sighs heavily and sags in his chair. “Give me a break… I was fired, okay?”

            Jakob scoffs. “I told you as much.”

            “Jakob!” Corrin cries. “Don’t be mean!”

            “With all due respect, milady, I only speak the truth,” Jakob says. “I’ve never personally worked for someone of her ilk, thank the gods, but I’ve heard the worst stories about masters like Lady Melissa. Always out to secure their own wealth and prestige above all else, even if it means trampling their own servants underfoot.”

            With a slightly shrill gasp, Corrin covers her mouth with one hand. “Jakob, I’m so sorry! If I ever made you feel that way—“ Then, abruptly, she turns to Flora. “ _Flora_! You’re the one I should be—“

            Flora giggles, her perfect posture breaking as she hunches over slightly. “Please don’t mind, Lady Corrin,” she says. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you.”

            “So what happened?” Felicia asks the boy. “What did you do?”

            The boy sighs again. “As you just pointed out, Lady Melissa cares most for her gold and her jewelry… One brooch went missing because I wasn’t there to help her fight off the intruders.”

            “But you _were_ there, weren’t you?” Corrin asks. “You were healing the wounded.”

            “Yeah, but I still disobeyed direct orders.” He yawns. “Whatever… I’ll just head to the place Miss Erina used to work. She said those people were nice.” Then he frowns. “Oh wait… that village is three days away from here…”

            “You should rest for today,” Felicia says. “Then prepare for the journey tomorrow!”

            “Can’t,” the boy says bluntly, and Jakob wants to sigh along with the boy because he should have seen this coming.

            Felicia gasps dramatically. “What do you mean you _can’t_?”

            “Well clearly, Lady Melissa didn’t hire you for your brains,” Jakob interjects, snorting derisively.

            “Jakob!” Felicia shouts. “You’re not helping!”

            But Jakob ignores her and forces his way directly in front of the boy. It’s not uncommon for families seeking an advance in wealth and prestige to hand their children off to noble families as servants – and Jakob would be a fool to assume that he was the only one. “She provided a roof over your head, did she not? Disregarding that for the sake of—“

            The boy bristles, and he snaps his head upward. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, there’s no longer any lethargy or apathy in his expression. “I couldn’t just let them die! Even if Lady Melissa could!”

            “That is _not_ for you to decide. As a butler, your will can _never_ supercede your master’s, ever.”

            “But she was wrong!” The boy’s voice is shaking now, and he clenches his fists on the armrests of his chair. “What do you know, old man? Miss Erina, Logan, Gerald, everyone… they’re all still alive, right? That’s all that matters! Even if it means I don’t have a home I can go back to!” Then he starts sniffling, and tears pour out of his eyes. The boy doesn’t say another word as he rubs his nose with his sleeve, choking on sobs all the while.

            “Jakob…” Flora starts, but then the butler raises his arm to stop her from speaking further. Later, he’ll deny ever feeling something other than disappointment and mild contempt for this boy, no matter how Flora and Felicia tease him for _caring_. But seeing the boy now, he can’t help but think back to his time in the castle before serving Corrin, before befriending Flora and Felicia, before Gunter insisted on mentoring him despite Jakob’s failures and shortcomings.

            “Lady Corrin,” says Jakob, bowing deeply. “I would like to request your permission to take this boy on as an apprentice. I cannot, in good conscience, allow someone with such lackluster training to serve anyone with even a single drop of noble blood.”

            Corrin simply blinks at him, but the corners of her mouth twitch upwards with a badly suppressed smile that suggests that she can see right through his half-truths. “A-Are you sure? I mean… he’ll be your responsibility. Are you really sure you want to be his _Gunter_?”

            Jakob’s eye twitches, but otherwise he maintains his composure. Come to think of it, the boy _did_ call him “old man” before… “If that’s what it takes,” he answers in a slightly strained voice.

            Unsurprisingly, Corrin nods enthusiastically. “Then of course!”

            Jakob clears his throat and turns back to the boy, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. Insanely, he wants to dry the boy’s eyes and nose himself, but then there would be no end to the teasing from all three of his companions. “Dry your tears,” he says as the boy takes the handkerchief from him and crumples it in his hand. “You stand before Lady Corrin, second princess of—“

            “Wait…” the boy mumbles. “You’re _that_ Corrin?” He turns slowly to look at Felicia, then Flora, and then finally Jakob. “So… all of you are…”

            “Servants to the royal family, yes,” Jakob answers bluntly. “Now, introduce yourself to your new master. Go on.”

            The boy sniffles and buries his nose in the handkerchief. It takes a few moments for him to fully compose himself, but then he picks up his healing staff and bows deeply before Corrin. “It’s an honor to be at your service, Lady Corrin,” he says, infinitely polite. “My name is Dwyer.”

            “Pleased to meet you, Dwyer!” Corrin says cheerfully, curtseying. “Thank you so much for joining our cause!”

            “And now,” Jakob says, gripping Dwyer’s sleeve and pulling him away, “you can show me your skills in preparing tea.”

            “Ask anyone,” Dwyer retorts, a smile finally creeping upon his features. “I make the best tea in town!”

            _[Dwyer has joined the party.]_


End file.
